


Radio Silence

by promisingahurricane



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angry Derek, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Derek Feels, Derek is a Failwolf, Derek-centric, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Scotty knows, Seemingly unrequited love, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Stiles is hurt, Time Skips, Vague, it hurts, this is not fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:15:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promisingahurricane/pseuds/promisingahurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles goes on a trip to Europe and sends some postcards to Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio Silence

**Author's Note:**

> So instead of doing what I was planning to do (like working on the sequel of ["The good son and the bad wolf"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5190704/) or the new chapter of ["My demons don't play nice"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4383083/chapters/9949328/)) my brain decided to go all asshole on me and this happened instead. I'm not even sure if this is connected enough but I like the vagueness. I'll go back and try to be productive again now. BYE. 
> 
> Come by and enjoy some steter, sterek and general teen wolf feels with me on [tumblr](http://promising-a-hurricane.tumblr.com/)

Everything had been fine when he left. He had been happy, grinning and making jokes about what stupid shit he would do on his trip to Europe. Derek had smiled gently at him, Braeden in his arm as they waved him goodbye at the airport. The air had been heavy with the smell of other people, but he could still tell when that one particular scent of lemon and mint slowly dissipated after Stiles had walked to his gate and somehow Derek's heart felt a little heavy. He pressed his nose into the mercenary’s hair and went home.

The first weeks had been a little more quiet, but filled with pictures on Facebook, messages to the pack members and postcards for Derek. Stiles knew of his love for handwritten things and always mocked him for being an old man. He rolled his eyes at every single one, cramped with the human’s scribbly writing telling him of sunrises, beautiful landscapes and silly adventures.

He spent his days with Braeden, rolled up next to her at night and relished the feeling of contentedness in the air, supported by the mingled scents of the pack.

Then, slowly, there had been less pictures, less updates, less postcards. But Derek didn’t worry. The boy probably just had too much fun to stop long enough to write something down. It was a hard task for him anyway with that much energy in him. The occasional kitschy postcards were something he looked forward to now. Braeden looked at him weirdly when he chuckled and softly let his fingers wander over the pictures.

After more slowly passing weeks, there was complete radio silence. The rest of the pack seemed less upset with the lack of messenges. But Derek ached for the jokes and the gentle eyes more and more, his wolf a little more restless at not knowing where his pack member had wandered off to. The mercenary hadn’t been there for most of these last weeks. He almost didn’t notice.

Derek tried to call Stiles on his phone, but it went straight to the voicemail. He didn't leave a message. Instead he installed a reminder for the day Stiles would come back. Maybe they needed to talk.

The date of his return came and passed.

Scott shrugged it off and said that something had come up. Agony slowly settled in his bones, frustration at _his_ smell gradually disappearing from the loft. He told himself it would be fine. When he was back, he could make sure to drag him there and replace it. They definitely needed to talk.

More days passed, he called again. The phone was disconnected.

Sleep started to evade him and the little food he ate started to taste more bland.

One night, Derek jumped through the still unlocked window to Stiles room. He froze in place. Everything was so neat and organized, so much unlike anything it had ever been. On Stiles' bed was a neatly folded dark henley, too big to be his.

The wolf remembered the night he had given it to him. The teen had been covered in blood, had shivered and trembled until Derek had softly washed the red of his face and coaxed him into changing. When he had once tried to return it, Derek had pressed it back in his hands and had relished the smile he received.

With coldness in his fingers and a whimper on his lips he ripped the doors of the closets open, pulled out drawers. Gone. All gone.

“I’m sorry, son.”

He whirled around to face the Sheriff who was leaning on the doorframe with an apologetic look. Derek nodded and jumped back out.

“So sorry…”

The next day the last postcard arrived.

With shaking fingers wandering over the writing he tried to find remainders of the scent he craved, but too many hands had held the small piece of paper.

It took him a day to make sense of the whole thing and when he did, he denied it anyway. But when Scott walked into the loft, with soft steps and slow moves, his throat became tight, realization that it had to be true slowly settling with a choking hold around his neck.

“You knew.”

Scott fidgeted around nervously, while he looked at everything but Derek. His silence said everything he needed to know.

“You fucking knew that he wasn’t going to come back.”

The anger was clear and bristling in the deceivingly soft spoken words.

“Kind of..?” Scott whispered hesitantly.

The dark haired man roared as he turned and smashed his fist into the wall. Scott winced and ducked to make himself smaller. It was almost hilarious to see the Alpha flinch away.

Seconds trickled by, the chest of the werewolf heaving as he tried to control his shift. His teeth were still pointy when he turned around to the alpha with glowing eyes.

“Why.”

The question had rotated in his head since the _possibility_ had sneaked into his mind.

“I can’t tell you..”

“WHY”, Derek roared once more.

When he saw the determination in the young man’s face, he ran a hand over his own tiredly, the burning rage making place for desperation. Scott caved in at the sight.

“He wanted you happy, but he could no longer watch it happen without him being part of it.”

“He was _always_ a part of it!!”

“Did you tell him?”

Now, the new silence affirmed what _Scott_ already knew. It stayed, even after the Alpha had left and closed the door.

The postcard on the table still stared him in accusation.

_Be happy. I love you. - Stiles_


End file.
